


now you see me (don't tear me down)

by Charante_Leclerc



Series: hilltop confessions [2]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Anxiety, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 02:36:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18540577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charante_Leclerc/pseuds/Charante_Leclerc
Summary: Pierre and Charles had anticipated the reaction that their Paddock kiss would ignite, but were they prepared to cope with it?





	now you see me (don't tear me down)

The phone would just not stop _ringing_. It was infuriating. It’s not like he’d been expecting it otherwise, really, but living with the reality of it was beginning to be hell. There were constant requests for interviews, joint and single. They wanted photo shoots, there were questions that were just a little too personal (all ignored and deleted). They were forwarded articles, and just blatant attacks - how their email addresses and phone numbers got leaked, he’d love to know. His annoyance finally got the better of him, and in a rage he stormed down the nearest phone shop, pushing through the crowd of photographers camped at the door to the building. He bought the first phones he laid eyes on, and with great satisfaction turned their old ones off. If they missed anything important, he wasn’t taking the blame.

“I know it’s annoying, but if you keep on walking back and forth across the carpet you’re going to make a hole.” Charles remarked, stretching out across the sofa. Pierre whined, walking over and flopping down onto Charles, making him give a little _oof_. Pierre wiggled, getting comfy, lying his head on Charles’s stomach. Charles petted Pierre’s hair, and that felt so good. He could just feel the tension draining out of him by the second.

“You have magic hands.” Pierre mumbled. “How do you do it?”

“I have a very cuddly boyfriend. You learn a few tricks.” Charles laughed. “And I know when you need to relax.”

“Do you blame me?"

“No.” Charles admitted. “And if I never hear my ringtone again it’ll be too soon. But we knew this was coming, and we’ll deal.”

Pierre huffed. “You always know what to say.”

“Just common sense.” Charles replied, yawning. “Hiding inside sure is tiring.”

Pierre smiled, running a hand down Charles’s leg soothingly. “Hopefully it lets up soon. I just want to go for a run, or something. I haven’t seen proper sunlight in days.”

“We’ll ask someone to come by tomorrow, a test.” Charles replied. “Then we’ll take a hike.”

“Sounds nice." Pierre snuggled closer, listening to Charles’s breathing start to even out, the fingers in his hair stilling. Pierre closed his eyes, the smile still on his face. It may not be the best situation, being forced to stay inside, but at least sleepy cuddles were an option.

 

~*~

 

The Monaco Grand Prix had loomed in their minds, ever since they’d kissed in the middle of the Paddock in Catalunya. There was the added bonus that they could stay in their apartment - it was amazing how quickly he’d started thinking of _their_ apartment rather than _his_ \- but there was also the downside that it was Monaco. It was the glitzy and glamour race, the one that reporters and personalities flocked to. They were going to be in the spotlight, nowhere to hide. And in all honesty, it made Pierre want to run back home and hide for just a few more days.

Charles gave his hand a tight squeeze, and he had a reassuring smile on his face. “In this together?”

“In this together.” He replied, leaning in to give Charles a quick kiss. “What would I do without you?”

“Wouldn’t survive a day, probably.” Charles teased.

“Charles! Pierre! Can we have you over here!”

“Charles! _Charles_!”

“A photo of the two of you together?”

They both ducked their heads low, keeping a firm grasp on one another as they pushed their way past reporters. They’d been fighting past them to get out of their building every day, however the crowd was huge at the entrance to the Paddock. They finally made their way through, only letting go of each other to swipe their passes. They were confronted with another crowd inside the Paddock, microphones and cameras being thrust into their faces. They kept their heads down, walking until they reached the Red Bull motorhome. Pierre didn’t want to let go, he wanted to hold onto Charles tighter than ever, but all he did was squeeze tightly, bringing Charles’s hand up for a quick, fierce kiss before letting go. He watched Charles go, shouldering through the mass of people by himself.

There was a strange atmosphere inside the Red Bull motorhome. Everyone was skirting around him, sending him sideways glances. He looked around, flushing red. Even his own mechanics were acting strange. Like all of a sudden, he didn’t belong.

“What?” He snapped, glaring at the room. “Take a picture, it lasts longer. Or wait, maybe just look in every newspaper.”

The room fell silent, no-one moving. He couldn’t take this, it was like the walls were caving in, he was suffocating. He shot another dark look around the room, before walking off, looking at his feet. _One in front of the other_.

He shut his door, locking it with shaking hands. He sat down on the sofa, taking a couple of deep breaths, trying to stop the panicked hysteria from overwhelming him. He’d known it was going to be bad, but to feel outcast from his own team as well, that had really shaken him.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he sighed. Probably just another attempt at an interview. He pulled out his phone, getting ready to delete the message until he saw the sender.

 **_Charles:_ ** _How are you holding up?_

 **_Pierre:_ ** _could be better. you?_

 **_Charles:_ ** _Well, Mattia just gave a big speech about nothing was to change, how accepting they were of us and how they’ll stand by us, whatever_

 **_Charles:_ ** _It was embarrassing_

 **_Pierre:_ ** _sounds it_

 **_Pierre:_ ** _better than RB’s welcoming party of strange looks and talking about me_

 **_Charles:_ ** _Fuck_

 **_Charles:_ ** _Really?_

 **_Pierre:_ ** _yup. just gonna stay in my room until the press conference_

 **_Charles:_ ** _Good luck. I’ll see you soon_

Pierre locked his phone, sliding sideways until he was lying down. He covered his face, breathing in and out slowly. He was okay, Charles was waiting for him. He could do this.

“Pierre.” There was a voice outside his door, the door shuddering as they attempted to try and enter. Pierre sighed, doing a quick count to five before hauling himself up. He walked over to the door, unlocking it but not opening it. Christian could do that himself.

Christian tried the door again, a slightly surprised look on his face as the door opened this time. Pierre had settled himself on the sofa again, knees pulled up to his chest, staring at the opposite wall. Christian settled on the opposite sofa, looking serious.

“Pierre. I think we need to have a talk.”

“You mean you’re going to talk at me.” Pierre said in reply. “Is it an apology for how I was just treated? Or is it going to be the whole ‘we’re behind you’? Because I don’t think that’s true.”

Christian sighed. “Look, the incident that happened just now, we should’ve been more... sensitive. But, you didn’t exactly help.”

“By standing up for myself?”

“For putting us in this position in the first place!” Christian responded heatedly. “Pierre, we could’ve done it better. Managed it better. But just acting rashly has caught us off guard.”

“Sorry?” Pierre asked quietly, eyes narrowed. “You’re pissed off because of the way _I came out_?”

“You should’ve spoken to us first.”

“I was returning from the hospital and my boyfriend wanted to check I was alright! Fucks sake, if it was a girlfriend this wouldn’t even be an issue!”

“But it is. Because it’s Charles Leclerc, and he is your rival. We can’t make this go away Pierre.”

Pierre was seething, and he’d never wanted to hit someone so much in his life. He stood, looking pale, fists clenched at his side. “I think I have a press conference to get to.”

“I can walk you -”

“No. I can walk myself. You’ve done enough.” He said, voice tightly controlled. He walked out, leaving Christian gaping behind him. He stormed through the motorhome, barely even caring that he was probably making a scene, perfect for inside gossip. He pushed past the reporters, heading for the conference room, the anger in him burning and white hot. He knew he was early to the interviews, but he just needed to get _out_.

“You doing okay?” He turned around to see Dan staring at him, concerned. Pierre shook his head. The anger was disappearing quickly, leaving behind a strange sort of hollowness.

“Apparently, I could’ve been more media conscious whilst coming out.” He replied, voice shaky. “That I’d caught them off-guard.”

Dan made a disgusted noise. “So they’re still pulling that shit.”

“I don’t think I made the right choice, signing for them. I should’ve stayed where I was.” Pierre said, voice small. Dan shook his head.

“Marko still controls them too. Believe me, you’d still be in that same situation.”

“Pierre!” Charles came jogging down the corridor, looking worried. “You’re pale, what’s wrong?”

“A not so pleasant conversation with Christian.” Pierre gave a weak smile. Charles scooped him up in a tight hug.

“Pierre.” Charles’s voice was soothing, his hand rubbing a pattern into the back of his neck. “We’ll sort it.”

Pierre nodded. “Okay.” He whispered. “Okay.”

An official walked out, a look of boredom on his face. “Gentleman, if you could follow me please.”

Pierre let go of Charles, trying to give him a reassuring smile. Charles leant in, giving him a quick kiss. “It’s going to be okay.”

Pierre just wished he could believe him.

 

~*~

 

He just wished he could forget the entire weekend. The press conference had been a nightmare from start to finish. All the questions had been directed at Charles and himself, none at Dan, or Seb, or Lewis. His team were still barely speaking to him. The race hadn’t been bad, he’d admit. P5 was good, especially at Monte Carlo. The aftermath was tense though, with Max almost spitting with rage after a late lap retirement. Safe to say, it wasn’t exactly the perfect scenario.

And now Charles was gone, with media duties to carry out at Maranello, taking him away for four days. The apartment was quiet without Charles, and time just seemed to stretch on.

He just wanted to crawl back into bed, and pretend the world didn’t exist.

But he’d promised Charles he’d do something, that he wouldn’t just sit at home. So when Jev texted him, asking if he wanted to join him for a run, he’d agreed, reluctantly.

Turns out it was exactly what he needed.

Jev wasn’t going easy on him, pushing him at every step. It was something to focus on, putting one foot in front of the other, feeling his muscles scream at him. He kept going, keeping Jev behind him, heading for the top of the hill. He didn’t stop until he collapsed on his knees, gasping for breath. Jev slowed to a stop beside him, panting.

“You’re out of shape.” Pierre said, flopping onto his back. “Fuck, running that hill was insane.”

“Sometimes you need insane.” Jev replied, lying down next to Pierre. “But I think this was too insane.”

Pierre laughed, hiccuping slightly. “I did need this though.”

“I’d figured.” Jev said, stretching out. “Dan said that you’d had a bad weekend.”

Pierre sighed. “That’s an understatement.”

“Red Bull’s philosophy has always been… it’s always self-image first.” Jev sighed. “I have never been so relieved as when Dan decided to leave.”

Pierre frowned. “What are you two to each other?”

Jev pulled down his shirt slightly, shifting so Pierre could see. There were some initials tattooed over his heart, with a date underneath. “Daniel Ricciardo-Vergne, 6th August 2015.”

“You got married.” Pierre said quietly. Jev gave a small smile.

“Best day of my life. Quiet. Just family, close friends.”

“Why?”

“Because of Red Bull and Marko.” Jev shrugged. “They said it was never a good time. Same bullshit, everytime. They must have really been pulling their hair out between us and Seb.”

“Why don’t you say anything now?” Pierre asked.

“Part of the agreement of leaving Red Bull. We’re not to say anything until our anniversary.” Jev explained. “It was a small price to pay.”

Pierre lay there, looking at the sky. The uneasy feeling that he’d had since Thursday was still there, but the knowledge that others had been in the same situation? It helped, a little.

“Why did Dan stay?” He asked, curious.

“He wanted the Championship. Everytime we were told no, not yet, I reminded him of that fact. Of course I’m glad he’s out, the last year was horrendous. He wasn’t Dan, he was a ghost of him. But I was never going to stop him from chasing his dream.”

Pierre nodded, sitting up. “Thank you.”

Jev smiled. “You’re not alone, Pierre. Charles is a lucky man, and he’s a good man. Don’t let them break you.” Jev stood up, offering Pierre a hand. “Ready to head back down?”

Pierre grinned, letting Jev pull him up. “I’ll beat you again, old man.”

“Respect your elders.” Jev replied, face blank. Pierre panicked, beginning to think that he’d really insulted him, but Jev broke into a run, leaving him gaping. “Your response time sucks!”

Jev was a bastard. A sneaky, clever, sly bastard.

 

~*~

 

“ _I said hey… what’s going on?... And I said hey, hey, heey, heeeey…_ ” Pierre sang, radio turned up high as he cooked up some pasta. He wasn’t big on cooking, for the most part it frustrated him, waiting for something just to eat it in a matter of minutes. But Charles was back today, after four days in Italy, and sue him. He was excited. He just wanted to do _something_ , and he was twitchy. He’d already spent most of the day in the gym, trying to work off as much energy as possible. His body wasn’t going to thank him with how far he’d pushed it in the last few days, but it was better than doing nothing.

He heard the door shut, and a bag being dropped. He wanted to run and grab Charles, to hold him as close as possible, but he didn’t. He was cooking, really cooking, and he wanted it to be good.

“Miss me?” Charles asked lowly, hugging him from behind. Pierre grinned.

“Well, y’know…” He shrugged, trying to keep the happiness out of his voice. “How long were you gone again?”

Charles chuckled. “I think you should turn the pasta off.” He murmured.

“It’s almost -” Pierre started, but his brain caught up when Charles started at his belt. “I’ll turn the pasta off.”

“Good.” Charles was ghosting lips over his neck. He gave an involuntary moan, biting his lip. Charles had finished with his belt, spinning him round, and Charles was kissing him, messy and hot and _needy_. Charles pushed his jeans down, and he leaned back, a wicked smile on his face. “Up on the counter.”

Pierre did as he was asked, pushing himself up. Charles’s eyes went dark at the sight of his taut muscles, and he was being kissed again, hard and bruising. “Fuck Pierre.” Charles whispered. “Missed you so fucking much.”

Pierre didn’t have time to respond, before Charles was bending down, kissing down his dick. Pierre groaned, clenching a hand in Charles’s hair. “Don’t stop.”

“Not even if I do his?” Charles asked, that wicked smirk back in place. Pierre groaned again as Charles swallowed, almost overcome. The sight alone of Charles was beautiful, but Charles knew _exactly_ what to do. Just enough tongue, just a scrape of teeth. It was almost unbearable, but it was _perfect_. Pierre whimpered, throwing his head back against the cupboard.

“Charles, Charles, I think -” Pierre whined, desperate. Charles hummed, and Pierre couldn’t hold on anymore. “ _Charles_ …”

Charles pulled off just in time, and Pierre was coming all over his shirt. “Fuck.” He panted, pulling Charles up for a lazy kiss. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Charles whispered. “I’ll take you with me next time.”

“I’m sure Ferrari will love that.”

“Don’t care.” Charles replied, resting his forehead on Pierre’s chest. Pierre laughed, cupping Charles’s face and lifting it up gently.

“Do you need me to…” Pierre asked. Charles nodded, shifting so Pierre could work his jeans open. Charles groaned when Pierre took him in his hand, and after a few strokes, Charles was coming too, groaning into Pierre’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a minute, Pierre rubbing Charles’s hair softly.

“I really did miss you.” Charles said softly, pulling back so Pierre could look him in the eye.

“I know.” Pierre replied. “The apartment is too quiet without you.”

Charles gazed at him. “When I was coming back, all I could think about was getting home. Except, I didn’t think of my apartment. I thought of here. Of you.”

“You think of me as home?” Pierre whispered, stunned. “ _Me_?”

“Pierre, you’re the most important thing in my life. And I want you to be in my life. I know this might be too fast, I can back off, I just -” The words were lost as Pierre kissed him, trying to put all he wanted to say into it. He wasn’t as eloquent as Charles, he couldn’t always get the words out. He pulled back, and Charles was smiling. He understood.

“Charles Leclerc, will you move in with me?” Pierre asked, a little giddy.

“Pierre Gasly, I’d love to.” Charles replied, smiling brightly. Pierre couldn’t look away, it was like looking at the sun. “And the first thing I’ll do…” Charles tugged at Pierre’s shirt, pulling it over his head. “I’ll put this in the washing as I ruined it.”

“I think you might be the perfect boyfriend.” Pierre mused. Charles made a faux-wounded look.

“ _Think_?”

“Fine, fine, you are the perfect boyfriend.” Pierre kissed Charles lightly. “I’m so lucky.”

“Don’t you forget it.” Charles grinned, stepping back, throwing Pierre’s shirt in the washing machine. Charles stripped out of his own shirt, throwing it in after. Pierre watched, a soft smile on his face. No, he wasn’t going to forget it.

 

~*~

 

Pierre looked murderous as he stalked through the corridor, glaring at everyone in range. He was fuming. Maybe apoplectic was better. _Raging_.

He’d arrived in Milton Keynes only an hour ago, assuming that he would be doing some simulator work, speak to Christian, and then he’d be on his way home again.

He’d assumed wrong.

He’d been rushed in quickly, barely even having the chance to say hi to his mechanics, to Max. He’d spent ten minutes being told how the day was planned out. He’d spent another ten minutes in the corridor after walking out, trying not to descend into a panic attack. He’d then spent the last thirty minutes having a screaming match with Christian.

He’d been forced into a long list of interviews, no simulation time at all. He wouldn’t be going home tonight, but he’d be back in tomorrow for the simulation work instead. Where he was staying tonight, he didn’t know. It could be his rental car, for all they cared.

He’d sent off a text to Charles, giving a quick explanation, and then he was sitting in a conference room. He’d have to give interviews to journalists, to TV, to radio… it was insane. It could be done in just one interview, but he knew Red Bull were trying to punish him. He’d dared to step out of line without permission, and this was the price.

 _Don’t let them break you. Don’t let them break you_.

“Pierre, hi, I’m Chris. Motorsport Live.” A man entered the room, hand stretched out. Pierre shook his hand, not bothering to get up. This man wanted to be his friend even less than he currently wanted to be in this room. Chris sat down, putting his dictaphone on the table and taking out a notepad. “So. I guess you know that you’ve made a bit of a splash, recently.”

“Well, my race in Monte Carlo wasn’t particularly great, but -”

“No, no.” Chris laughed. “Were you trying to make a statement, kissing Charles Leclerc in Catalunya?”

“No.” Pierre narrowed his eyes. “My boyfriend was concerned following my crash. That’s all.”

“So you can confirm that you’re in a relationship with Charles Leclerc?” Chris raised his eyebrow. Pierre sighed.

“Yes, I’m in a relationship with Charles.”

“Can you tell us how this relationship came about?”

“No.” Pierre crossed his arms. Christ sighed.

“The readers just want to know, Pierre. There’s never been a gay F1 driver before.”

“I’m bi, first of all. And your readers of, what was it, Motorsport Live? They really want to know how my _relationship_ came about? _Really_? Are you trying to make me into gossip? Or are you trying to make me uncomfortable? Because I’m more than happy to talk about everything. Shall I start by saying how good the sex is? What it sounds like when my dick is buried in -”

“Pierre.” Christian entered the room, smile on his face. Pierre didn’t miss the dangerous look he was sent. “I hope everything’s going okay?”

“Sure.” Pierre ground out. “What’s the next question?”

“Do you think that, given your relationship, you’ll not want to race Charles anymore?”

“Of course not.” Pierre shrugged. “I still want to beat everyone on track, including Charles. The race win is always my goal.”

“Do you think that the people will think you don’t deserve your race seat anymore?”

Pierre frowned. “I know my start to the season wasn’t great, but -”

“No, because of your sexuality.” Chris interjected. “F1 has always been seen as a very masculine, playboy-esque sport. People may think that you don’t deserve to stay?”

“Are you saying that I don’t deserve to stay in F1 anymore _because of my sexuality_ ?” Pierre could feel the rage rising again, the same itchy feeling that made him want to move, to peel off his skin, to _hit_ something. Or maybe someone. “You don’t fucking get to ask me that.”

“It’s a valid concern…”

“No, it’s not!” Pierre looked around wildly, he couldn’t focus. “ _Respirer, respirer._ ” He muttered to himself, covering his face. “I can’t do this.”

“Pierre.” Christian’s voice was warning. “Maybe you should take a break.”

“Fine.” Pierre stood up, stalking out of the room. He didn’t know where he was going, but anywhere that wasn’t that room was good by him. He managed to make it to a bathroom, having enough control left to check he was alone before letting out a scream of frustration. Those questions… those weren’t questions. They were invasive, they were _insulting_ . To question his driving ability because of who he’s fucking? _Fuck_.

This wasn’t an interview, it was a firing squad.

He took a few deep breaths, splashing some water onto his face. He couldn’t hide out here forever, however much he wanted to just turn around and leave this building, to run and never return. If it wouldn’t fuck up his entire career - more than he’d already done in the last few weeks anyway - he’d resign on the spot, walk away and be relieved. But he couldn’t give up now. He couldn’t end his career before it’d even begun.

He drew out his phone, quickly dialling and holding it up to his ear. “Answer, answer.” He muttered.

“ _Pierre_ ?” Charles sounded out of breath. “ _Are you okay_?”

“Yeah, I just needed to hear your voice.” Pierre admitted. “You sound rushed, I won’t keep you.”

“ _Sorry, just an errand that needs to be done._ ” Charles sounded like he was running. “ _You’re strong, you can do this. I’ll speak to you later_.”

“Speak to you soon.” Pierre agreed, hanging up. Even that little bit of conversation had helped to settle him. He steeled himself, walking back to the conference room. Christian was giving him a nasty look when he returned.

“Everything okay, Pierre?” Christian asked, pretending to be concerned. Pierre sent back a smile that was just as fake.

“Fine, absolutely fine.” He replied, sitting down. “Any other questions?”

“Just a couple.” Chris responded. He looked like he’d just gotten the scoop of his life, and realistically, he probably had. ‘ _Formula 1 driver lose temper over sex life_ ’, He could see it now. “So, how do you think fans are reacting to this new development between you and Charles Leclerc?”

“I don’t know, I’ve stayed away from the media recently.” Pierre admitted.

“Do you think that, in light of coming out, that has helped or hindered your chance of securing a drive for next year?”

“I think any team who wants to hire or not hire me based on the fact I’m bisexual, or because  relationship isn’t a team I want to drive with.” Pierre replied. He could see Christian tense. Good. He wasn’t going to abide by any gag rules they’d try and put on him. He wasn’t as forgiving as Dan.

“Thanks Pierre, Christian.” I think I’ve got everything I need.” Chris stood, shaking both their hands. “Good luck for the season.”

“Thanks.” Pierre muttered, slumping the minute Chris was out of the room. Christian turned icy eyes on Pierre.

“Do you want to explain what that was?” Christian asked coldly.

“I’m not going to sit and have him insult me.” Pierre shot back. “Fuck, he was saying that my driving was affected by the fact I’m fucking a guy.”

Christian twitched. Pierre smirked a little, strangely amused. “What, does that unsettle you? If I say that I’m fucking a guy?”

“Maybe it’s something you should keep to yourself.”

“Why? So you can control me like Dan? Like Seb?” Pierre gave an exaggerated frown. “You were so scared of the backlash that you told your _four-time_ world champion to keep his mouth shut.”

“That was a different situation.” Christian tried. Pierre shook his head.

“No, no it wasn’t. The only difference was that I was stupid enough to think that my team would back me up. I was wrong.” Pierre sighed. “I’ll do my contract. But if I’m not getting the support I need, neither will you.”

Christian’s face was pure anger, but there was a knock at the door. “Next interview is ready.” A PR lady stuck her head around the door, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else rather than here. Pierre didn’t blame her.

“Thanks, send them in.” Christian smiled. “Keep you temper, get through this.” He hissed at Pierre. “Don’t make the team look bad.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Pierre snapped, as the door opened and another journalist came in.

“Hi, Maggie from formula1fans.com, pleased to meet you…”

 

~*~

 

It’d been the end of a long day, and far too many interviews. Sitting in a small room with a revolving set of reporters was never going to be his choice of days, but every single one of them today had been sheer torture. The same questions over and over. ‘ _What’s your relationship with Charles Leclerc? Are you still up to Formula 1? Can you still drive a car now we know you like to have a dick in your ass_?’

He was fucking sick of it.

He still had to find a hotel for the night, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. At this point, he didn’t care if it was a motel as long as it had a bed. He shoved his headphones in, nodding at the receptionist on the way out. He just wanted to leave, but she was waving at him, trying to tell him something. Sighing, he pulled out an earbud. “Are you okay?”

“Um, Mr Gasly, there’s someone here for you.” She looked worried, eyes darting over to the seating area. Pierre frowned, looking over. Charles was sat there, looking incredibly awkward.

“Hi!” Charles waved, standing up. “I wasn’t sure when you were getting out, so…” He trailed off, giving a shrug.

“What are you doing here?” Pierre asked, stunned.

“I didn’t want you to be alone.” Charles explained, looking a little embarrassed. Pierre could almost cry, his boyfriend was unreal. Charles had flown here, all the way from Monaco, because he’d been having a bad day.  

He still couldn’t believe Charles wanted _him_ . That he’d done this for _him_.

“I’ve got us a hotel, and I’ve taken care of your car.” Charles carried on, grabbing hold of the bag Pierre was gripping loosely. “Everything taken care of.” Charles headed outside, to a thankfully nondescript Toyota. Clever, no allegiance to either team. Pierre could only stare, dumbstruck.

“He’s cute.” The receptionist said, grinning. “My boyfriend doesn’t even pick me up, and he only lives in Great Holm. Imagine coming all the way from Monaco!”

“You spoke to him?” Pierre asked. “Even though he’s Ferrari?”

She shrugged. “He didn’t ask anything about the team. Asked me about myself, talked about you. He really loves you.” She added, smiling. “He’s a good one. You’re cute together."

Pierre blushed. “Thank you.” He replied, ducking his head. He could see Charles looking expectantly at him from the car, and Pierre made a gesture. “I’d better…” He trailed off, pointing towards the car park. “Thank you.”

“See you tomorrow!” She replied happily, sitting back down at her desk. Pierre walked outside, still dumbstruck. He couldn’t believe that Charles had been sat there, just waiting for him.

Charles was smiling when Pierre got in, tapping his hands on the steering wheel. “You okay?”

Pierre leaned over, giving Charles a soft kiss. “You’re amazing. And ridiculous. I can’t believe you came all the way here because I was upset.”

“You needed the support.” Charles said softly. “I can deal sitting in reception for a while.”

“You’re ridiculous, and I love you.” Pierre murmured. Charles stilled a little.

“You love me?”

“I love you.” Pierre said again. “I love you so much it’s unreal.”

Charles’s face  split into that bright grin of his. God, that smile was beautiful. “I love you too.”

Pierre laughed, leaning in to kiss Charles again. “You mentioned something about a hotel?”

Charles’s grin turned dirty, pulling back, putting the car into gear and pulling away. “I like the way you think Mr Gasly.”

 

~*~

 

Charles had insisted on accompanying Pierre to Red Bull the next day, even though Pierre had said he’d be fine. The receptionist had winked at them when they’d arrived, Charles taking up his sport in the reception, settling in with a book.

It was a good plan. Shame it only lasted fifteen minutes.

Pierre had barely made it to the simulator before Christian stormed in, face flushed red. “You. With me. Now.” Christian seethed. Pierre followed him, at a cautious distance.

Christian led him to his office, where Charles was already sitting, tense and back completely straight. “Sit down Gasly.” Christian snapped. Pierre sat, shifting nervously. “What the _fuck_ are you doing here, Leclerc?” Christian asked, voice deathly cold. Charles shrugged. If he was concerned, he didn’t show it.

“I was trying to catch up on my reading.” Charles replied blandly. If he wasn’t as anxious as he currently was, Pierre would be laughing.

“In Red Bull HQ.”

“I was under the impression that the reception was open to visitors?” Charles asked, politely. He could’ve done well as an actor. Have another career after racing.

“You know damn well you’re not allowed here!” Christian shouted. “Having a Ferrari driver? _In our reception_?”

“I’ll be happy to leave, once I’m satisfied that my boyfriend isn’t going to be discriminated against.” Charles said, the same polite, neutral tone in place. “And so far, he’s been ostracised from the team, and you effectively punished him for coming out on his own terms, with your awful interview day yesterday. Now I am quite happy to go to the FIA. I’m happy to go to the papers. I will stay in that reception, not making a scene, as long as I feel necessary. You’ll have to call the police to move me. There’s nowhere in my contract that says I can’t be there, and as I said before, you’re open for visitors. You’ve kept Pierre an extra day, without booking him a hotel I’ll add. So I’m going back to reception, I’ll not ask questions, and I’ll read my book.” Charles gave a cheerful smile. Christian had gone pale throughout Charles’s speech, realising he’d been beaten, at least for now.

Pierre grinned, standing up. “I’ll walk you back down.” He said to Charles. “I’m assuming you don’t need me after I’ve done my simulator work?”

“Er… no.” Christian said hoarsely. “You’ll be free to go.”

Pierre resisted letting out a whoop, limiting himself to giving Charles a quick kiss, knowing it’d be the last kick in the guts for Christian.

It was a quick walk down back to the reception, avoiding most of the hostile glares of the Red Bull staff. Charles gave him a soft kiss in the reception (to the delight of the receptionist, he really needed to learn her name).

“I’ll see you soon.” Pierre promised. “And there are magazines here too.”

Charles sat down, looking through the Red Bull magazine’s with a face. “Have fun in the simulator.” He winked, picking his book back up again.

Pierre really didn’t deserve him.

 

~*~

 

Pierre stretched out, running his hand through Charles’s hair, Charles lying on top of him. They were lying out on a seat (that was really only designed for one), halfway across the Atlantic. None of the other drivers had outright said anything to them, but looks were enough. Dan had waggled his eyebrows, grinning like a madman. Max was staring at Charles with caution - no doubt having been warned beforehand by Christian about possible outbursts. The rest were watching carefully, not wanting to break the fragile calm on board the plane.

Dan plonked himself down opposite them, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “So, Jev said he spoke to you?”

Pierre hummed. “Gave me some good advice.”

“Yeah, he does that.” A soft look passed over Dan’s face. “I think he’s itching for a rematch though.”

Pierre grinned. Charles smiled sleepily. “You can take him, _mon cœur_.”

“Aww, pet names already.” Dan looked like a proud parent. “That’s adorable.”

“You know what he just said?” Pierre frowned.

“I live in Monaco. And Jev taught me. Pretty fluent now.”

“But… you don’t ever answer in French. Why not?”

“Because then there would be questions, and they’d be questions I can’t answer until August.” Dan shrugged. Pierre could see that haunted look that had plagued Dan all last year start to return. “So it says under wraps for now.”

“I’m sorry.” Pierre said lowly. Dan shrugged.

“It is what it is.”

“Is he asleep?” Esteban called over. Dan nodded, winking at Pierre.

“He’s asleep.” Pierre replied, trying not to move. He could see the others watching, and he was trying not to let it get to him.

“You two work well together.” Esteban said, looking thoughtful. “Like you even each other out.”

Pierre blinked, looking stunned. “Thanks.”

“How long have you two been dating?” Max piped up. Pierre was starting to feel a little confused. Were they trying to wrong foot him?

“Er, only about a month.” Pierre admitted. “Best month of my life though.”

“Seriously?” Sergio said, looking a little shocked. “But, that means you kissed on live TV after only dating a couple of weeks!”

Pierre shrugged gently. Charles stirred a little, burrowing into Pierre’s hoodie. “You just know when they’re the one.” Pierre said, smiling softly. “He’s my best friend, even before this. He always has been.”

“Don’t get sappy on us now Gasly.” Esteban groaned. Pierre pulled a face.

“Christian’s wrong.” Max said suddenly. “He said this was bad, it was going to cause problems. I think he’s wrong.”

The other drivers chimed in with ‘me too’s’, and Pierre would be lying if he hadn’t felt the tears well up. Everyone seemed to realise, turning back to other conversations, giving him his privacy. Only Dan stayed nearby, putting in his headphones with another wink.

Pierre smiled to himself, pressing a light kiss into Charles’s hair, tightening his grip as Charles shuffled in his sleep. Knowing that at least a few people were on his side, it meant the world.

 

~*~

 

Pierre span the wheels, trying to get the tyres up to temperature. It was a cold weekend in Montreal, and the track temperature was low. He’d managed to qualify third, amazingly outpacing Max all weekend. He had both Charles and Seb in front of him, the bright red glaring against the dark sky. He gritted his teeth, slotting his car into place. God, he’d take the podium right now. He didn’t just have to prove to Red Bull he was good enough, he suddenly had to prove to the world he was good enough.

He watched the red lights turn on, one, two, three… C’mon, he wanted to get _going_. Five lights.

No lights.

He shot forward, more grip and traction than the Ferrari to his side. He overtook, slotting into place between the two red cars. He just needed to keep his nose clean, attempt the race win, but don’t do anything stupid. Points were better than pride.

He didn’t hear anything on the radio until Turn 5, the static turning on. “You are up to P2, Pierre, P2. 0.2 seconds to Leclerc, Vettel is 0.2 seconds behind.”

“What do I need to do?”

“Push as much as possible Pierre. We want to have as much as a gap to Vettel as possible, we want to stay out in front at the pit stop.”

“Copy that.”

He could see Charles disappearing off, and as the laps passed, he realised that there was just no way he could match the speed of the Ferrari, it wasn’t possible. He was struggling to pull away from Seb, he was only just managing to stay out of the DRS zone. Unless their pit stop was stunning, the chance of staying out in front of the Ferrari was slim. The only thing he was managing to do was ruin Seb’s race.

“Still P2, Pierre. Gap is 5 seconds to Leclerc, Vettel is 1.8 seconds behind. Lap 6 starting. Box in 4 laps.”

It was going to be a long race.

 

~*~

 

He hadn’t managed to hold onto P2, but his first podium! He was ecstatic, and what a circuit to do it on. There was a reason there was the Wall of Champions. It was a historic track, and he’d gotten his first podium _here_. He just couldn’t believe it.

He jumped out of the car, hearing the cheer. He ran to his team, getting hugs and pats and screams of ‘well done’. He couldn’t forget what they’d done, but he wanted to celebrate, he wanted to celebrate with his team.

He pulled his helmet off, running off towards the corridor that led to the podium. There were people clapping, he wasn’t even really sure where he was supposed to be going. An official was pointing him in the direction of a room, where Seb was already sitting.

“Congratulations.” Seb said, standing up to give Pierre a hug. “That was a great drive.”

“Couldn’t keep up with you though.” Pierre laughed, towelling down his face. “Struggled to keep you behind.”

“Got you eventually.” Seb chuckled. There was more clapping, and Charles walked in, looking exhausted and elated. Charles gave Seb a quick hug, and then Pierre’s arms were full, Charles burying his face in Pierre’s neck.

“Hello Mr Grand Prix winner.” Pierre laughed. “Fuck, I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you.” Charles said, pulling back. “Holy shit, I won a race.”

“You won a race!” Pierre was grinning so much his face was going to ache later. “You’re a race winner!”

An official motioned at them to follow him, and they grabbed their hats, heading out to the podium. It was the best sound he’d ever heard, walking out onto the podium. The cheers were deafening, the music tinny, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

They stood for the anthems, and Pierre couldn’t help watching Charles. The sheer happiness on Charles’s face, the pride at hearing his national anthem play out, it was beautiful. He barely even recognised that the anthem music had stopped, a presenter walking over to him.

“The third place trophy!” Came a voice, and a trophy was being thrust into his hands. He held it like it was the most precious thing in the world. He heard the second place trophy being presented, and he pulled himself back to reality, wanting to pay attention for Charles’s moment. “First place trophy!” Charles was being handed his trophy, and god, Pierre would do anything to see Charles look like that all the time. “And… chaaaampagne!”

Pierre picked up his champagne bottle, spraying it at Charles and Seb. He was being covered, sticky and sweet, soaking his skin and his hair. He wanted to live in this moment forever. He caught Charles’s eye, spraying him with more champagne, and he was struck with the realisation that if he could give Charles the world, he really would.

This would just have to be the start.

 

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this guys! Turned it into a series, got at least the next one planned! For anyone interested, Great Holm (mentioned by the receptionist) is on the other side of Milton Keynes from the Red Bull factory, and I chose it mainly because that's actually where I bought my latest car. I'm lucky enough to live the next town over from MK, so the town is the one thing I don't have to research! I have also painted Red Bull as the villains a little. I did used to be a hardcore RB fan, but the way they treat their drivers, especially in the young driver program just rubs me the wrong way, so it's very unlikely they'll be put in a massively positive light from me. Also, the song Pierre is singing is 'What's Up' by 4 Non Blondes - a little nod to Sense8 (there is a beautiful scene in that show with this song).
> 
> The french used in this are as translates: 'respirer' is 'breathe', and 'mon cœur' is 'my heart' - a common pet name in France.
> 
> As always, crossposted to my tumblr (charanteleclerc), and prompts are always open! Thanks again for reading❤️


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